“I don’t think I have, and don’t let me.”
He came close to the boy.
“I want you to sleep in my room to-night, Nino,” he said. “Isn’t that odd? But I do, and I’ll promise not to pray or snore either. Bring in your bed when your sister has done the room, and put it alongside that wall there. Be in bed when I come up. Can you keep awake?”
“If you wish me to,” said Nino.
“I do. And when I’ve got into bed and put out the light, I want you to lie quite still whatever happens. I don’t suppose it will be for long. And if by chance afterwards I turn on the light again, I want you to sit up in bed and look cheerfully round, and laugh or do anything you like. Do you understand?”
“I understand what the signor says, but I do not understand what he means,” said Nino.
“Well, perhaps you will ... and then after that you can go to sleep. Poor Nino, how I bully and sweat you. Aren’t I a queer creature? You’re sure you quite understand what I say? Say it over to me! And then run downstairs, and see if dinner’s ready.”
Colin finished dressing and, when Nino returned, tapped on the door that communicated with Pamela’s room.
“Dinner’s ready,” he called out, “and if you are, come in here a minute. You’ve never seen my room, have you?”
Pamela entered. For the last two evenings she had only put on a tea-gown for their garden-dinner, but to-night she was resplendent in a blue silver-shot magnificence, cut very low and clinging close to her beautiful girlish figure. Over her arm she carried a cloak of pale pink feathers.